<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Coming Out and Coming Home by janto321 (FaceofMer)</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27355960">Coming Out and Coming Home</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321'>janto321 (FaceofMer)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Coming Out, Dating, Developing Relationship, First Kiss, First Time, Gay Bar, M/M, Making Out, Masturbation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 02:27:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,738</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27355960</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg realizes that he's gay at middle age</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>234</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Greg Lestrade had been married for most of his adult life. He'd met his wife in university, they'd gotten married, and so the last almost thirty years had passed. Children had never happened, not that they were intimate that often anymore. He knew that over the last few years she'd been finding others to meet that particular need.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He probably would have let it go on indefinitely, but Kate was the one who handed him divorce papers late one sunny Wednesday afternoon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Really?" He asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looked at him over her glasses. "You know this has been a long time coming."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shrugged and pulled out a pen to sign. "Looking to start over?" he asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm not only doing this for me."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Greg looked up at her. "What do you mean?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Look in the mirror, Greg. You're not as straight as you think you are."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Greg blinked a few times. Sure he found some men handsome, but he wasn't blind. That didn't mean anything. Everyone looked, right?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kate sighed and gave his hair an affectionate ruffle. "Take some time for yourself," she said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Greg nodded and watched her walk out the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The first few days afterwards, he rattled around the house. She'd already taken most of her things and the whole place felt empty and hollow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn’t stop thinking about what Kate had said. He'd always assumed he was straight. It was safer, for one thing, being a cop and all. But he'd only dated women, and not many at that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was almost a relief when Mycroft texted him, asking to meet. At least it gave him an opportunity to get out of the house. And since the meetings usually focused on Sherlock, it would be a good distraction.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He should have known Mycroft would see right through him. "Should I give my condolences on the divorce?" Mycroft asked as they waited for service in the quiet restaurant they'd come to frequent.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Greg rubbed the back of his head. "I don't know, myself. She said she was doing it for me as well as her."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mycroft looked him over in that way that he had. The way that made Greg feel like he was being flayed open and his deepest secrets revealed. It was a more unnerving gaze than even Sherlock's.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Greg looked away and sipped his water.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"May I ask an indelicate question?" asked Mycroft.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Greg put down his glass. "We're friends, yeah? At least sort of. Go ahead."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Are you gay?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Greg was rather glad he'd already put down his drink. But even mentally bracing for the question it was different to hear it put out loud. He took a deep breath, then another. "I don't know," he said at last, looking at his hands a moment. He looked up at Mycroft, relieved to not see judgement on his face. "Ridiculous isn't it, at my age? I should know."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Not ridiculous at all," said Mycroft gently. "We're about the same age. I know how it was for us when we were young. And you wanted to be a police officer."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"My wife knew. Or at least she hinted when she left," Greg scrubbed his face in his hands. "Doesn't everyone look?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now it was Mycroft's turn to take a breath. "It's not my place to judge someone else's sexuality. I myself am gay, but I've known for certain since I was young and never had any doubts about it. I was very careful for a long time, but, fortunately in this more enlightened age it's far less of a liability."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Don't suppose you've got an attractive ex-boyfriend I could try snogging?" asked Greg lightly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I have a few, but if you wish to try, I myself am currently single and have been for some time. If that's not taking advantage."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Greg bit his lip. "I trust you," he said honestly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Reaching out, Mycroft squeezed his hand. "Here's what I will do. I'm paying for dinner. We're going to enjoy this evening. Tomorrow, I'll send you some reading material. I want you to think about it, and think about your feelings and experiences. We'll meet back up in a week and talk about it."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Greg smiled at him, feeling relieved. "I can do that."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Your divorce was finalized only a few days ago. The last thing you want to do is go rushing into something new. And trust me, you don't want your first experiences to be with some stranger you met in a club." Mycroft's eyes were sincere.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm a bit old for the club scene anyway," said Greg. "Bad experiences?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mycroft shrugged. "They were fine, for the time, but not something I'd suggest. We all do reckless things when we're young."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I never did much," admitted Greg. "And I got married pretty quick. Guess it's time for a midlife crisis."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mycroft smiled at him. "Not a crisis. Simply figuring things out. Now the waiter is walking this way, let's eat and relax, as much as we can.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The rest of the evening settled much more into its usual pattern, and by the end of the night, Greg was bidding Mycroft farewell, feeling better than he had in days.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>True to Mycroft's word, when Greg got home from work the next day, there was a box just inside his front door. Not that Mycroft should have known where he lived, or had a key, but, well, he was a Holmes, after all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Greg took the box into the living room and opened it, finding a few self-help books, and, on the top, the number for a therapist, along with a note.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I hope you find these useful. The therapist is someone I've seen from time to time and you might find it helpful not only with what we discussed last night, but with the divorce itself and all that entails. Don't hesitate to call or text if you need me.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>M.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Greg smiled, finding it very thoughtful. He picked up one of the books and went to fix his dinner, feeling cautiously hopeful.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He called and made an appointment with the therapist the next day. He was feeling more and more that both his wife and Mycroft were right, and he really wasn't straight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Three days after the dinner, Greg sat in bed and pulled up some gay pornography on his laptop. He'd looked at it on occasion over the years, but he'd never made a habit of it and always felt vaguely guilty when he did.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But there was nobody here he was supposed to be satisfying but himself. He didn't watch it long, only enough to get himself off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Closing the computer, he lay back in post-orgasmic relaxation. As he drifted off, he allowed himself to remember things he'd pushed to the back of his memory. Boys he'd noticed. Friends that he recalled feeling strangely close to. He thought he'd loved his wife, but had he? Or did he just assume that the affection he carried was all there was to it?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rolling onto his side, Greg fell asleep, wondering if he'd let too much time go by. But then there was Mycroft, and he found himself dreaming of his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The week was up almost before he knew it. He'd been working a couple of long days, no thanks to His Highness, but he found himself eager to see Mycroft and texted him that morning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Since you clearly know where I live, come to mine. 8. Bring a good bottle of wine.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mycroft had texted back in the affirmative and nothing could bring down his mood the rest of the day, not even Sherlock and Anderson's arguing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At eight precisely, Mycroft showed up at his door. "You didn't say red or white so I brought one of each."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Greg chuckled and let him in. "You would have been a formidable boy scout," he said, leading him into the kitchen. "Red is good. There's a corkscrew in that drawer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"It smells delicious," said Mycroft, putting the other bottle away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Thanks. I like cooking but it often seems like too much if it's just me." Greg went back to the stove. "How was work?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh, much the usual," said Mycroft. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Greg could hear the smile in his voice. It all felt dangerously domestic. Focusing on what he was doing, Greg turned the stove off and plated their dinner. "Wine glasses are in that cabinet."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mycroft poured and they sat down at the table. There had been so many meals at this table, alone or together, though more often alone the last few years. But aside from the ghosts it felt good to have Mycroft here in this space.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"And how are you doing?" asked Mycroft.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm... remarkably fine," said Greg. "I think she was right in that this was a long time coming."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mycroft nodded and took a bite. "Oh this is wonderful," he said honestly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Greg smiled and the conversation turned to other things, like Sherlock and the things they could say about their work. It was comfortable and Greg found himself wondering about something more with Mycroft. Even if Mycroft had been correct in telling him not to rush things.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As they finished eating they moved to do the dishes together. "Next week, I will be out of town," said Mycroft. "But perhaps the week after that you could come to mine?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I would like that," said Greg.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Excellent. I'll put it on the calendar."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They finished washing up and moved into Greg's living room. Greg toyed with the stem of his wine glass. "You said you've known since you were young?" he asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mycroft nodded. "I had an uncle who was gay, and so I grew up with awareness of it. I figured out fairly early that I had no interest in the girls in my classes. And then I was sent to an all boys school, and, well..." Mycroft chuckled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"That must have been an experience," said Greg. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Fortunately, I was always focused on my studies," said Mycroft. "But I wasn't ignorant of my feelings. I suppose that's when people began to think of me as cold and aloof. It was safer than getting too close."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Greg nodded. "I had a few mates at school. I did all the things people expected. Dated a few times. Guess now I know why that didn't work as well as I thought."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mycroft looked over at him. "So you think you are gay? Or perhaps bisexual?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No I think I'm actually pretty gay," said Greg. "I dated and got married because it was expected, but I've never really even looked at women all that much."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Whatever label you land on, I'm here to support you," said Mycroft. "Or even none at all." He glanced at his wrist. "I should get going, but thank you for dinner."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You're welcome," said Greg, getting to his feet to walk him to the door. "I'll look forward to hearing from you in two weeks."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Have a good night," said Mycroft with a smile. "Don't get into too much trouble.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'll do my best."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When the weekend rolled around, Greg decided to take the plunge and went to a gay bar that had a good reputation. He had no plans to sleep with anybody, but maybe he could at least get a feel for the place.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To his relief, it wasn't just filled with attractive young people, but also men closer to his own age of all shapes and sizes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He got a drink and found a seat, just looking around.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"This seat taken?" asked a man just a few years younger than himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"It's not, but I'm not looking for anything in particular tonight," said Greg.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"That's fine," he said, taking a seat. "My name's Jeff. First time?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Greg. And first time ever at this sort of place to be honest," he answered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Ah well, you picked a decent one. Not too loud, not too crazy." Jeff sipped his own drink. "Sometimes we don't come around to things until we're older."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"That's what my friend's been telling me," said Greg. "It's just all a bit new and strange."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jeff reached over and patted his hand. "You'll get the hang of it. And then you'll realize you can breathe in a way you never could before. I only figured it out about a decade ago when my son came out."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Were you married?" asked Greg.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"For a little bit. It didn't last long."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Greg nodded. "Mine just left a month or so ago, but she pointed me in the right direction when she did."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"And here you are," said Jeff. He raised his glass. "To new beginnings."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"New beginnings," answered Greg, clinking their drinks together.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They lapsed into silence after a bit, just nursing their drinks. Greg noticed Jeff was keeping most of the younger men from approaching. He really wasn't interested in going home with anyone anyway, so after a while, he got to his feet. "Thanks, Jeff, I'll be going now."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jeff nodded and scribbled his number on a napkin. "If you ever do decide you want to do more than sit and watch, give me a call."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Thanks," said Greg, taking the napkin and stuffing it in his pocket, already knowing that he wouldn't. Jeff seemed nice enough, but he wasn’t who Greg wanted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It ended up being almost two more weeks before he met with Mycroft again, due to one of their jobs or the other. Greg was standing at a crime scene when he got a text with a time and an address and silently pleaded with the universe to let him have this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock eyed him a moment, then went back to his deductions as Greg took notes. When he finished he walked over close enough for only Greg to hear. "His favorite is German Chocolate Cake," he muttered then stalked off before Greg could really register what he'd said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Greg smiled at his back for a moment, then turned his attention back to his team and started giving orders.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After spending so much time in his closet that he was nearly late, Greg showed up on Mycroft's doorstep, bearing a German chocolate cake from the bakery not far from his flat. He knew this wasn't supposed to be a date per se, but it was starting to feel that way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mycroft smiled as he opened the door, a real smile that Greg imagined few people were ever lucky enough to see. "Ohh, cake," he said, taking it from Greg's hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"A little birdie told me it was your favorite," said Greg, following him inside. The place was just as grand as he'd always imagined Mycroft's home would be... though my goodness that kitchen wallpaper was certainly... something.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm afraid I'm nowhere near as good a cook as I am at my job, so I ordered in," said Mycroft, putting the cake on the counter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"That's alright, I didn't bake the cake."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mycroft smiled at him again. Soon enough they were sat at Mycroft's dining room table, flanked by rather impressive life-sized statues. "I suppose this way you always have dinner company," said Greg, eyeing the nearest one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"It does make my meal times feel a little less empty," admitted Mycroft. "I rarely have company."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Well, thank you for having me over," said Greg.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They carried on a friendly conversation as they ate, talking about work and other things they'd been up to over the last few weeks. Finally, Greg brought up the pub experience he'd had.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"So he gave me his number at the end of the night," he concluded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"And did you call him?" asked Mycroft, nearly keeping the notes of jealousy out of his voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Naw, got someone else on my mind," said Greg. "Have for a while, actually."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You do?" asked Mycroft.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Greg picked up Mycroft's hand and gently kissed his knuckles. "Yeah, I do."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mycroft flushed and bit his lip. "I hope you don't think I'm taking advantage or..."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Not at all," said Greg. "You've been a perfect gentleman."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mycroft took a breath. "What do you say we retire to the den and enjoy a bit of the cake you brought?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Sounds good to me," smiled Greg. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Go on, you pick a film, I'll get the cake."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Deal."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Greg walked into the den. It was as cozy as the rest of the house, with a sofa that looked quite comfortable. A shelf of DVDs stood next to the TV and Greg went over to browse.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mycroft came in a minute later and put two pieces of cake on the coffee table. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"This one," said Greg, handing over the box.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"The Marx Brothers. An excellent choice."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Greg got comfortable on the sofa while Mycroft started the movie and joined him. It felt good to laugh and relax with Mycroft, and to know that he was cared for and accepted. Equally, he knew that if he told Mycroft he'd changed his mind and needed to go, Mycroft would respect that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Greg had no desire to be anywhere but right here.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As the movie came to an end, Mycroft turned his head to look at him. Greg caught his gaze and his heart skipped. It felt natural as breathing to lean in towards him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mycroft reached out to cup his cheek and drew him into a sweet and chocolate-tinged kiss.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Greg sighed. It felt better than any other kiss ever had. There was no fear he was doing it wrong, or worry about rejection. A simple connection that sent a spark through his body.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mycroft finally pulled back, flush, eyes blown dark. Greg grinned at him and leaned over to kiss him again. This time Mycroft put his arms around him and pulled him close.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Greg opened his mouth to him and moaned softly as Mycroft slipped his tongue into his mouth. God, but he'd never been so hard just from kissing. He relaxed in Mycroft's arms, trusting, wanting whatever he wanted to give.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They lost track of time as they kissed, making out like teenagers, reveling in the feel and taste of one another. It was only the clock chiming midnight that finally made them break apart.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Greg was breathing heavily as he smiled at Mycroft. "That was amazing," he managed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Likewise," answered Mycroft.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a moment, Greg thought Mycroft would start again. Instead, he picked up Greg's hand and kissed it. "We'll have to do this again soon."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"We really do," said Greg. He reluctantly got to his feet and turned to get his coat, catching a glimpse of Mycroft adjusting himself as he stood. Good to know he wasn't the only one so affected.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mycroft walked him to the door and gave him one more chaste kiss. "See you soon. Drive safe."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I will," promised Greg, smiling at him before turning to his car. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The whole drive home he found himself still buzzing with the excitement of what had just transpired. Was he starting to fall for Mycroft? Likely. He'd been attracted to him for longer then he cared to admit. And it seemed that was mutual.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As soon as Greg got home he went to his bed and stripped down, taking himself in hand. He wondered if Mycroft had done the same thing once the door closed. Groaning softly into his pillow, Greg wondered what Mycroft had imagined, if he'd thought about taking or being taken. Greg had rarely allowed his own fantasies to go so far, but as he furiously sought release he imagined it one way, then the other until he gasped with the force of his orgasm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Panting, Greg wrapped his arms around a pillow. He should go get cleaned up. But instead, he found himself drifting off, feeling warm and sated, knowing that things were only starting with Mycroft.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This one has the smut</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The next weekend again found Mycroft at Greg's. Mycroft was clearly tired and Greg encouraged him to go on home after they ate dinner. Mycroft promised to make it up to him later and sealed it with a kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Over the next two months there were more dates and a few more cancellations. They took in a museum together and a walk in the park. Mycroft was clearly cautious about public displays of affection, but that was fine by Greg, since he was still getting used to everything himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He found he didn't miss Kate much at all, though she did call to check on him. When he mentioned he was getting ready for a date she had sounded quite pleased to hear it. Greg thanked her for having the courage to do the thing he never had. "It was time," said Kate. "You go have fun and don't get into too much trouble."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Three months after that first date at Mycroft's house they were again on Mycroft's sofa, this time completely ignoring the movie they'd put on. Greg shifted to sit across Mycroft's lap, having grown much more comfortable with showing Mycroft exactly what he wanted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mycroft groaned softly, one arm wrapped around him. His free hand roamed up Greg's thigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, touch me," murmured Greg.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mycroft opened his eyes to meet Greg's gaze, then started rubbing and squeezing his cock through his trousers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"God," groaned Greg, head dropping back as he rocked up into Mycroft's hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you know how much I want you?" asked Mycroft, nibbling his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Probably as much as I want you," panted Greg. "How did I ever think I was straight?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Societal pressure can be a difficult thing to overcome," said Mycroft. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Greg felt him reach for his zipper. "Please."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I want to do so many things with you," murmured Mycroft, slowly freeing his cock. "I want to show you so many pleasures."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"If I combust it's your fault," murmured Greg. He gasped as Mycroft wrapped a hand around him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mycroft raised his head and kissed Greg soundly on the lips as he started to stroke him. Greg moaned, feeling deliciously helpless. His own imaginings were nothing to the actual feel of Mycroft's sure hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Greg opened his mouth, letting Mycroft kiss him deeply as he held him. He already felt lost in a sea of bliss, unconsciously rolling his hips, gripping Mycroft's shirt as it were a life preserver in a rough sea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His orgasm nearly took him by surprise. Greg moaned softly as Mycroft gentled his kisses, working him through the aftershocks until he lowered him onto the sofa.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Christ," muttered Greg, staring up at Mycroft's ceiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mycroft chuckled and produced a handkerchief from somewhere, cleaning up the mess. He carefully tucked Greg away, then stretched out next to him on the sofa and kissed him gently, running fingers through his hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There wasn't quite enough for the two of them on this sofa, but Greg didn't want to be anywhere else. "Thank you," he murmured, feeling sleepy. He opened his eyes. "Shouldn't I take care of you?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm fine, for now. You can make it up to me later." There was something thrillingly dangerous in his voice. "Rest, for now."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Greg nodded and dozed off, Mycroft's fingers still moving through his hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Greg woke up again he found he was alone on the sofa, most of the lights were off and a blanket had been laid over him. He smiled, imagining Mycroft gently extricating himself and making sure he was comfortable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Greg knew he could just roll over and go back to sleep, but maybe Mycroft had gone to his own bed?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Making up his mind, Greg got to his feet, and headed up the stairs. He'd had a full tour of the house by now and had grown pretty familiar with it over the last months. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quietly, he pushed open Mycroft's bedroom door. Sure enough, the man was asleep, curled up on his side in the large bed. Greg got out of his trousers and left them on the floor, climbing in to the other side of the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Gregory?" Mycroft murmured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, just me, love. Go back to sleep." He curled up around Mycroft and closed his eyes again, quickly falling back asleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Greg was awakened in the morning by Mycroft kissing him. He moaned softly and opened his eyes. "Hi."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Morning," said Mycroft, hand on Greg's bare hip, rubbing his thumb across a patch of bared skin. "I must admit I could rather get used to waking up to you in my bed."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Greg grinned at him and leaned up to kiss him, rolling Mycroft onto his back. "Can I make up for last night?" He asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Mm, you may," said Mycroft.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Greg kissed him, getting his hand into Mycroft's pyjama bottoms. Mycroft moaned and pushed them down as Greg got a hand around him. "You're gorgeous," muttered Greg, looking down to a glimpse of Mycroft's manhood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you want to taste?" asked Mycroft, breath catching.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Greg looked back up at his face. "I think I do," he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mycroft sat against the headboard and guided him down. "Been wanting your mouth on me," he admitted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Greg smiled up at him, then dragged his tongue along Mycroft's cock. While he'd certainly never given a blow job he'd been on the receiving end of enough to know what he liked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mycroft moaned softly, hand in Greg's hair, whispering guidance and encouragement to him. Greg's eyes flicked up to Mycroft's face as he wrapped his mouth around his cock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Beautiful," murmured Mycroft, watching him until his eyes slid closed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Greg closed his own eyes. Mycroft was heavy on his tongue in all the best ways. He bobbed his head, knowing that was responsible for those amazing noises from Mycroft's mouth. He could only imagine that this was what heaven would feel like.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mycroft gently guided him off after a few moments, pulling him up for a searing kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Greg groaned, the ache in his jaw quickly forgotten.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you want to fuck me?" asked Mycroft.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>God, he never thought he'd hear that sort of language from this man. "Yeah, I think I do," admitted Greg.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kissing him again, Mycroft reached over and opened his bedside drawer, pulling out some lube. He coated his own fingers, then handed it to Greg. "Watch," he commanded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Greg shifted back, giving Mycroft room as he spread himself wider and pressed in two fingers. His hair was falling in his eyes as his head rocked back and he moaned softly at his own touch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment Greg forgot how to breathe as he watched Mycroft, lost in his self-pleasure, opening himself with what was clearly long practice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fumbling with the lube, Greg slicked his own cock, wanting to fill him, wanting to make Mycroft cry out, wanting to know that he was the reason for that look on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After just a few minutes, Mycroft withdrew his fingers. "Please, Gregory," he said softly, opening his eyes, chest heaving with exertion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Greg didn't have to be told twice. He moved up and kissed Mycroft, guiding himself into him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mycroft moaned softly, eyes slamming shut once again. Greg had done this sort of thing occasionally with his wife, but it was entirely different with Mycroft.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Mine," whispered Greg as he started to thrust, needing to claim his lover in every way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mycroft kissed him again, then suddenly rolled them over. Greg moaned as Mycroft rode his cock, obviously knowing exactly what he wanted and how to get it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He squeezed Mycroft's hips, then moved a hand to his cock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Mm, yes," murmured Mycroft. He batted Greg's hand away and took himself in hand, watching Greg's face until his eyes slammed shut a moment before he came, mouth parted as he groaned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Greg shivered as Mycroft's release struck his chest. He rolled them over again and took Mycroft hard, kissing him as he found his own release, Mycroft squeezing around him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Greg finally became aware of the world again he was laying on Mycroft's chest, cock growing soft. Mycroft had his arms around him and was kissing his temple.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Was it good?" asked Greg.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Amazing," Mycroft assured him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Should probably shower but I don't want to move," Greg muttered. He sighed, loose-limbed and... happy. For the first time in a long time he felt well and truly happy. "I love you," he said without thinking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mycroft stilled for a moment. "I love you, too," he said a heartbeat later, voice soft.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Greg smiled, knowing that here, at least, he was truly home.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Much thanks to lmirandas for reading along.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>